


The Viewing

by Actaeon



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Drabble, Gen, Idiots in Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-27
Updated: 2013-09-27
Packaged: 2017-12-27 19:22:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/982660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Actaeon/pseuds/Actaeon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carlos and Cecil decided to take their relationship one step further, and Carlos had no idea how difficult it could be to find a home, especially in Night Vale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Viewing

Carlos buried his hands into the pockets of his recently acquired business labcoat and allowed himself a little sigh. Really, he was so much out of his depths here he didn’t even know in which direction to turn. They were standing in a room – four walls, a door, a window, and something that was probably a fireplace but now inhabited by a slimy, pink substance that waved into their general direction as they passed it. Behind this room were more rooms, like a bath and a kitchen and a bedroom and something else that was probably a, uh, room. Really, he wouldn’t know. 

He had never looked for a flat. Especially not for a flat for two. 

Cecil, on the other hand – brilliant Cecil with his fluff of blonde hair neatly combed back and a very becoming, acidly coloured tunic wrapped around himself like a royal robe of sorts – seemed delighted. He moved through the different rooms and made little “ah”s and “oh”s, just like anything here made actual sense. He seemed especially charmed by the patio door leading out into currently uncharted area, which may or may not consist out of poisonous gases. It would be a good place to dry socks, he had suggested, squeezing Carlos’ hand in the process. 

Of course, there was also the fact that their estate agent – a man in his mid-forties maybe, with a very strong handshake and a backwards-growing head – only spoke modified Sumerian. But it was okay, because Cecil understood most of it and apparently managed to ask all the right questions; about payments, mortgage, even the neighbours. He seemed delighted at the answer, which Carlos took as a good sign. 

When it came to the end of their little visit Cecil took Carlos by his sleeve, smiling at the estate agent and saying… well, something, Carlos couldn’t follow him even if he tried. They then left the room, strolling through the empty space alone. It … didn’t feel weird. It actually was quite nice. 

Thinking that this apartment could be home was exciting. Not exciting like science, but still pretty rad. 

Cecil stopped in the bedroom-to-be, peeking out of the window into the wasteland behind the apartment. He bounced slightly on his feet, deeply thoughtful, before he turned around, offering Carlos a dazzling smile. 

“So?” 

“Uh?” was the not too eloquent reply. Out of depth like whoa. “So what?” 

“So “what do you think about our potential future home”-so!” Cecil replied, only slightly exasperated. Carlos could almost see it I his eyes. “Really, I try hard with my loveable boyfriend,“ they said, “but sometimes he’s just out of this world.” Which probably wasn’t even too far from the truth. 

Carlos rubbed the bridge of his noses, glasses in hand. 

“I’m not – I’m not an estate specialist, Cecil. All I can say is that it’s… less weird than the thing we had a look at near the Dog Park…” 

Cecil frowned and groaned in understanding. 

“…and not as run-down as the thing at Coyote Corner…”

“Oh, don’t remind me—“ 

“…AND actually exists, unlike the flat in Old Town Night Vale, so I’m really delighted. And it’s clean, it’s… spacious enough? I guess I like it. There’s no hole in the ceiling, and I can live with an interdimensional rip that could kill me, as long as it stays in the garden. Because I’m not the gardener-type, anyway.” 

He was just finished with his rambling when he felt soft and warm hands, resting on his shoulder. Cecil stood right in front of him and smiled down onto him, his expression a mix of unnatural softness and pure, raw love for the scientist. 

“AND,” Cecil purred, his voice considerably lower than before, “no neighbours. Which means no chants at three AM, no children that try to sacrifice you, and probably, just probably, the chance to sleep in on a weekend.” 

Carlos held his gaze, grinning; His hands found Cecil’s on his shoulder, and he raised his eyebrow. 

“That’s all?” 

“Well. Among other things,” the radio host said warmly, and leaned in to seal their decision with a kiss.


End file.
